Your Name Is Carter Vantas And Your Best Friend Is Sick
by ParanoidKitsune
Summary: You should have known to get him some help before he was delirious and coughing up blood... / Sickfic in the Ups and Downs AU I Created. / Warning for cursing and mentions of an eating disorder. / There just aren't enough Homestuck sickfics.


**_AN: Hey guys! Paranoid here, bringing you a story I started not too long ago. Forgive me for the horribly unoriginal title! It was actually suppose to have a lot more to the beginning, but I sorta gave up at the end, if you can't tell! I tried to make this have as much correct information as possible, but I could be utterly wrong on a lot of things here, so forgive me! Favorites and follows are always welcome, but a review would be pretty nice, too? If you would like, I'd be more than happy to write a prequel explaining how poor Gabe got sick in the first place, as I was originally going to, so tell me that if you'd wish! Carter is Karkat in this, Gabriel is Gamzee, and Uncle is Goatdad, if you are confused on names. uvu_**

* * *

When you stomp your way into the room Gabe's currently in, his uncle is talking to a doctor, telling him that it just seemed like a cold at first (he wouldn't know what it's like at first, he wasn't even _there_) and saying this disease just escalated until he was this sick. You overhear "How'd he get those... scars?" like it's something _bad_ and it was _Gabe's _fault, and you wan't to punch him, maybe give him some scars of his own, but you don't, because that would be stupid. You shove past them, getting a "who are you?" from the doctor and some explaining to him from Gabe's uncle, and there's your best friend, sitting on one of those doctor's tables, hunched over and looking horribly confused and scared, like he's not sure where he is and why he's there, his eyes darting around in an almost-panic, and his bangs clinging to his forehead, sweaty and disgusting. You touch his cheek to get his attention and it's _burning_ hot, and you have to speak his name before his eyes stop looking _through _you and actually_ at _you. He's suddenly surprised, like you were never there and the whole situation is falling in place in his feverish and tired mind.

He opens his mouth to speak, but instead of words, he turns his head into the crook of his arm and starts coughing. Harsh, sticky, and wet coughs that leave him trembling and when he pulls his arm away there are specks of red and oh _god_ this is a lot worse than you thought. He curls up on himself, wincing with the effort of moving and breathing, and he's trembling, long, skinny arms and legs shaking like he's freezing even though he's running a really fucking high fever. His breathing is short and shallow, and he's so miserable it's hurting you to look at him.

You turn around to look at the two adults in the room, scowling like you always do.

"Can't you just get him some fucking medicine?" You say suddenly, and both of them look at you, surprised. "Do you see how sick he is? Are you even a fucking _doctor?_ At least give him some painkillers or _something!" _The doctor blinks at you and then clears his throat.

"I was actually going to do that right now, considering I know what he might be suffering from." He walks over to a cabinet, opening it and pulling out a bottle of pills, popping the child-proof lid and pouring two into his hand, nudging Gabriel's shoulder and handing him the bone-white pills. Gabriel looks at them for a minute and then at the doctor, coughing and shuddering before asking croaky and hoarsely for some water. The doctor nods and fills up a little styrofoam cup with water and hands it to Gabriel who's shaking, but smiles and mutters a little "thanks" before popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water.

Your best friend almost sputters out all the water with how quickly he goes back to coughing, and this time they don't just stop when he starts shaking, they go on and on, and he practically falls off the table, doubling over on himself and making these horrible wet and disgusting sounds until tears are pricking at his eyes and his whole body is convulsing with each gut-wrenching cough. He slowly and shakily straightens his back again, and it looks like he might pass out right then and there with how physically drained he looks. You can't stop yourself from hugging him gently, making sure not to hold onto him tight enough to make it even harder to breathe, and his arms shoot up around you and he practically clings to you, coughing again and whimpering and, shit, is he _crying? _And then you realize yeah, those tears that were pricking at his eyes were finally trickling down his cheeks as he coughs up mucus and blood onto your shoulder and tries to suck in a full breath. God, he must be in so much fucking pain, you don't even know how he's getting those little shallow breaths in with all the shit he's coughing up.

"We should probably get some chest X-rays and blood tests done, just so that we can hook you up to an IV and you can rest a little." The doctor says to Gabriel but does he _honestly _think the crying teen in your arms is listening to him? You nod for Gabe, then slowly pull away from him, and he sniffles and whines, reluctant to let go of your shirt.

"You hear that?" You ask and he nods, wiping his teary eyes and coughing again. He's able to get it under control this time, stop it before he's shaking too hard. A hospital bed is already being wheeled up. He jumps off the little table he was on clumsily, barely able to support his own weight, and shakily climbs onto it, panting by the time he's settled.

You're not allowed to go with him when he's getting X-rays, but you are allowed to be with him when he's getting blood tests, which is a relief, he didn't take kindly to needles just yet. His jacket is off now, and he's shivering more violently. It takes you a few minutes to just get him calm enough that they can even approach him with the needle, and then he's coughing again (he was coughing more than he wasn't, honestly...) and you're pretty sure he almost passes out before the whole test is done, but it's over with quickly and they assure you and him that he'll be moved to a room and he can finally rest. He ends up falling asleep before you even get to said room, and doesn't wake up when they tell you and his uncle it was a kind of bacterial pneumonia and then give him an IV with medicine.

That night you stay, his uncle doesn't. They said he should keep his jacket off, because it would help bring down his 104º fever. Gabriel sleeps and you worry, and then he starts coughing in his sleep and curls up on his side, his shaking hands grabbing the sheets and his legs draw to his chest, in a position that you know is making it harder for him to breathe, by the sound of the wheezing, almost choked breaths he makes in between coughs. You feel horrible when you shake his shoulder to get him to wake up, even if he's barely lucid, staring somewhere in his own feverish mind (you're pretty sure me mumbles _"...Carlos?" _quietly and slurred and it breaks your heart), to get him to lay on his back, getting a few more coughs out before finally taking a deeper breath and then stopping, shaky and teary eyed and still so congested. And then he grabs your sweater and whines and without thinking you climb on the bed with him and he _clings_ again and you fall asleep with a hand in his sweaty hair and his head on your chest like some kind of fucking romantic movie, but you can't bring yourself to care because he _needs_ you when he's this sick and how could you say no to that?

* * *

You wake up to the strong scent of sickness and sweat, and Gabriel is still sleeping, head on your chest and wheezy breaths more even than they've been since he got here. You smile, and he yawns and opens his glassy eyes slowly, face confused and wincing when he breathes in. He shudders and tries to keep the coughs from bubbling out of him, but they're harsh and get forced out of him, his face scrunching up in pain, quickly sitting up to breathe a little better,and when he stops, he collapses back on the pillows again, panting.

"Hey," You start, trying to catch his attention. He slowly looks over at you, and even after sleeping through part of the evening and through the night, he still looks exhausted. "Feeling any better?" He shrugs, bony shoulders trembling and arms wrapping around himself.

"_...Kinda?_" He whispers, and you barely hear him, he's so quiet.

"You're lying." You say, more of a statement than a question. He thinks for a second, then nods slowly. "Don't worry, you'll feel better soon, just rest, okay?" You say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him. It looks like he thinks for a second, hesitates, and then asks.

"You can... you can stay, r-right?" His voice sounds so desperate and scared like if you leave you'll never come back (that's probably what he _does_ think, his brain too fucked up right now to figure out that you'll always be there for him).

"Of course," you reply, cracking a little smile. "But don't you want me to get up? You've barely got any room..." He shakes his head and lays it back on your chest.

_"Like it when you're here, ya' keep me warm..." _He mumbles, smiling sleepily, probably about to fall asleep again. You roll your eyes and tangle one hand in his hair gently, careful not to pull the knots your fingers happen to catch on.

He sleeps again, and you worry just a little bit less.

You don't know how long he's been been out when he starts twitching, the fingers caught on your shirt holding on just a little tighter, eyes fluttering and twitching even when he's still asleep, and he starts mumbling incoherently under his now frenzied and congested breath. You think he's saying _"no"_ over and over again, but you can't be certain. Then the coughs start back up again, or they try to at least. He can't take in enough breath to let out a long string of harsh coughs like he's been doing, so they come out choked and choppy. It isn't a lie that you start freaking out a little, or maybe a lot, and you nudge him gently (so gently, like he might break into a million little pieces if you're any less careful).

"Gabe," You try, hoping maybe he'll wake up. "Gabe please, you're... you're _really _freaking me out right now." You whisper close to his ear, and his eyes are suddenly open and darting around the room, his mouth not mumbling "no" anymore, but "motherfuck" and other variations of the word, and his eyes catch on your face and he looks _terrified_.

"Gabe? You okay?" It's stupid to ask, because there are tears in his eyes, and once he takes in a slightly deeper breath it comes out in coughs, and he flinches away from you, coughing and coughing and he won't _stop. _

"Shit, Gabe, c'mon, look at me." You try, sitting up and touching his cheek lightly, and he winces like you've burnt him, practically hacking out his lungs by now. You pat his cheek once. "_Look_ at me." He shakes his head, and it feels like an eternity before he finally _stops_ with the coughs, shaking violently and breathing quickly, yet like the weight of the world is on his chest, eyes glassy and dazed. He might be hyperventilating, you can't tell.

"Gabe, look, deep breaths..." He finally raises his head to look you in the eyes, face ghost-white yet bright red on his cheeks and ears and neck. He has that 'looking through you' look again, but he tries his hardest to follow your instructions, breathing in slowly and deep.

"Okay, hold it for a second, good, now breathe out." And he seems a little better after that, able to take longer and deeper breaths.

"What the fuck happened?" You ask, and it takes a moment for him to catch his breath enough to answer,

"Fuckin' nightmare, man..." He says, raising his arms slowly and making a weird gesture by his head. "Then I just freaked the fuck out cuz' of it... Sorry." _Sorry?_

"Don't say sorry, you wanna talk about it?" He shakes his head, almost scared by the offer. He breathes in and winces and then goes to talk again.

"Mother_fuck_, Car, is this medicine really workin'? I still feel like _shit_..." His voice cracks on the last word, and you wish you could just take all the sickness out of him and throw it onto another fucking planet because he _doesn't deserve this. _

"The doctors said it would, you need to have a little patience, though..." He nods, and it looks like he's not awake, yet he's sitting up and his eyes are open, half-lidded, but still open.

"You look wiped..." And he doesn't respond, just sort of leans back against the pillows, mumbling something indistinct before drifting back to his world of sleepy delirium and falling asleep once more.

* * *

It takes another day for his fever to really break (another day of delirium and nightmares), and then three more days after that for him to fully recover and get released from the hospital. His uncle comes to sign the release forms, and before you leave, the first doctor comes in the room and says Gabriel probably got that sick because of how underweight he is, and hands you a pamphlet about "anorexia nervosa" when Gabriel isn't looking, but you just say it isn't his fault and that's it, and even when he ignores you and tells you to still get help for Gabe, you throw the piece of paper out right when the doctor leaves your sight.

You take Gabe to Denny's after, and while he's stuffing food in his mouth like he's never seen it, you get good look at him. He still looks so tired, bags under his eyes and skin not exactly the shade it should be, but he's not coughing anymore, and his breathing is normal. There's hospital bracelet on his wrist, loose and practically falling off whenever he tilts his wrist down just the slightest bit, and his hair is matted and disgusting, and you make a mental notes to get him to shower and stay at home at least one more day. He looks up when he notices you staring, his pink tongue poking out of his mouth to lick some of the syrup that was dripping down his cheek.

"Whatcha' lookin' at, Car?" He asks, his big, blue eyes questioning.

"You," you say without thinking, talking a sip of water, and then proceeding to choke as you realize how flirtatious that sounded. Gabe breaks out into giggles as you cough out all the water that made it's way down your trachea, scowling at him the best you can. When you finally get your shit together you're still scowling.

"Look, I have the right to look you over and make sure you're not fucking dying again, okay?" He slides down a little in his seat, feet place on top of yours under the table.

"Never was dyin', bro."

"You know what I mean, shitwad."

Gabriel pays with money his uncle gave him.

"Now lets get out of here, you still reek and it's embarrassing to be in public with you."


End file.
